Ghosts
by ownedbyacat
Summary: KenShuu, Prospects AU. When Kensei suggests Christmas with family and friends he doesn't expect Shuuhei to react with a near-panic attack and weeks of insomnia. In the end, he deals by indulging a favourite hobby, while Shuu has to learn the true meaning of Christmas and lay a few ghosts. (between Job Hunt and Wonderland)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **For all the Ken/Shuu fans out there, and especially all of you who cheered me along as I've been finding my feet here and on LJ... I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your support, comments and critiques. But I can write you a little story, which I've done. Unless the muse changes its mind, Ghosts will be in three parts. And please don't read this if you're hungry... or on a diet, because, you know, Kensei loves to cook about as much as I do.

Here's to Old Endings and New Beginnings.

Happy Christmas!

xxXX *~*~* XXxx

**Ghosts**

**Chapter 1**

Kensei's phone rang, loud in the quiet of the kitchen. He dropped the wooden spoon on a convenient plate and wiped his hands on the dishcloth he had slung over one shoulder before picking the device from the counter.

"Shuu, what is it?"

Background noise, metallic clangs and clatters, as well as numerous conversations made the younger man hard to understand. Borough Market was a hive at the best of times and a day before Christmas it would be closer to mayhem. Add to that the misery of mobile phone reception in the City and Kensei was grateful his phone actually told him who was calling.

"Vacuum packed chestnuts are fine," he said, when he'd made sense of the snatches of his lover's voice. "If you can find fresh ones, buy those too. What? Oh, half a dozen nets would be good. And don't forget the coffee," he reminded even though hell would freeze over before Shūhei forgot to visit his favourite coffee shop to pick up a bag of freshly roasted Arabica to last through the Christmas period.

Kensei put the phone down and turned back to stir the Cumberland Sauce simmering softly on the stove. He'd been indulging his love of cooking for the last three days and should have felt suitably mellow now. Instead, the cooking and baking spree had barely kept the lid on his unease. And the bottle of wine he would usually have enjoyed as he cooked remained unopened in the well-stocked wine rack as he considered the results of his labours filling the large kitchen.

Pyramids of mince pies – enough for several large choirs of carol singers – adorned one end of the kitchen counter, right next to a long row of jars. Kensei loved relishes and chutneys and made Christmas-themed ones every year; to eat as much as give away. Two large hams sat beside the relish, boiled, baked and glazed to perfection and ready to feed the hungry hordes.

Kensei's favourite, the famous Muguruma venison pie – golden crust in elaborate pleats and thickly covered in sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg – took up pride of place, flanked by a lavishly decorated Beef Wellington.

He had no idea who, besides his parents, his sister and their newest protégés, would choose to show up, but there was plenty of food to go around. Open House at Christmas was a tradition that Kensei had started while he served and did not plan to give up. Initially intended for those of his men who had no families, Kensei's Christmas dinners had turned into cheerful reunions over the years. And he loved it that way.

Seeing how Shūhei valued family, Kensei had expected the younger man to love the idea just as much. So the almost panic in Shūhei's eucalyptus eyes and the bout of insomnia that had plagued his brat for most of the month had come as a shock. When the panic transformed into a shuttered gaze and forced cheer, Kensei tried everything he could think of to draw the younger man out. But Shūhei wasn't talking. He simply pretended that nothing was the matter, though a blind man could see that he was hurting.

Kensei had watched Shūhei juggle for hours each day, unsure if the vacant gaze masked thoughts of corporate network security or horrors long past. He'd watched Shūhei's fingers, usually so sure and swift, stumble across the keyboard, their rhythm broken and uneven. He'd watched him at home trying to make casual conversation when his mind was clearly spun into its own hell. And for once, he had no idea how to help.

"The mind has the ability to overcome many of the body's limitations," Retsu Unohana had told him when he'd gone to talk to her, cautious and reluctant and unsure. "But you can make use of those limitations, too. Push him far enough into physical exhaustion and his body _will_ shut down to protect itself. And once he's slept, he should be able to think more clearly."

Kensei was familiar with the effects of sleep deprivation, every soldier was, but he was grateful for Retsu's support. The woman had heard every word that Kensei _hadn't_ said – and she'd not even mentioned sleeping pills... or therapy. And while Kensei hated to push when he could not accurately predict the outcome, he had done as Unohana had suggested. And then, two nights ago...

_"Does it still bother you?"_

_The soft touch woke Kensei from his doze. He lay as he'd fallen asleep, diagonally across the bed, a stack of pillows under his head. The lamp glowed on the bedside table and outside the window, inky blackness proclaimed the lateness of the hour. Shūhei was stretched out beside him on top of the quilt, head propped up on a palm, while his fingertips traced the scar on Kensei's shoulder._

_Shūhei's voice was as soft as the touch of his fingers, but his gaze was so intent, Kensei could practically hear thoughts and memories chasing each other in his lover's head. Between work, training and their bedroom activities, Kensei was doing his best to wear the man out, but so far, he had little to show for his efforts._

_The deep shadows under Shūhei's eyes still spoke more of sleepless nights than physical exhaustion, and not for the first time Kensei wished the younger man would just share what bothered him. But sharing his troubles had never been Shūhei's way. So Kensei had resigned himself to waiting with as much patience as he could muster._

_"It's been almost ten years, Shūhei," he said softly. "Plenty of time to forget about it."_

_"December 23__rd__," Shūhei replied, voice a mere breath. "The last day of our tour."_

_Understanding lit Kensei's mind like a giant chandelier. Not so much at Shūhei's words, but at his tone of voice. "December 23__rd__," he mused. "Also the day you left the service. Why am I starting to think that was not a coincidence?"_

_Shūhei didn't answer and that in itself was answer enough. _

_Kensei sighed and sat up. He still had no idea why the idea of a big family Christmas had triggered such an intense bout of soul searching, but he knew he had to do what he could to stop it. Shūhei walking out on his chosen career and family all those years ago had been a painful blow to Kensei's soul. Shūhei walking out on him now would be worse. _

Please, don't let me fuck this up!

_The silent prayer was a heartfelt plea and Kensei took a moment to firm his resolve and let it steady him. Then he straightened his spine and drew a deep breath._

_"May I ask where you put it?"_

_"What?"_

_"Don't 'what' me, Shūhei. Your letter of resignation."_

_Shock turned Shūhei's face perfectly white. His mouth opened and closed several times before brain and vocal cords connected into a stuttered "My what?"_

_"So you're not planning to walk out on me tomorrow?" _

_"No!"_

_The horrified indignation in Shūhei's voice soothed Kensei's nerves. He reached out and closed a hand around Shūhei's bicep, pulling him up so their faces were level. "Then talk to me," he implored._

_Shūhei's eucalyptus eyes were fringed with long, dark lashes. He could hide very effectively if he chose, but he didn't flinch under Kensei's scrutiny. His gaze was steady, as was his voice._

_"I screwed up, and it almost cost you your life. I need to remember that."_

_"You also saved my life that day. You need to remember that, too."_

_Shūhei's lashes swept down, and this time he was hiding. Well, Kensei was having none of that. His hand took a firm grip on the younger man's chin and forced his head up._

_"You're not hearing me, Shūhei," he growled. "And you seem to think that the truth is a Mobius band. It's not. Every truth has two sides. Yes, you screwed up and I got shot. But you also saved my life. Both things are true, whether you like it or not."_

_"You're saying that failure can be redeemed?"_

_"I'm saying that it's pointless to fixate on endings and overlook that they're also new beginnings."_

_A deep breath shuddered out of Shūhei's throat. His voice, when it came, was whisper soft. "Always?"_

_"Always."_

_Tension bled from Shūhei's frame like air from a punctured balloon. And when Kensei stretched out and pulled him close, sleep claimed the younger man in moments. Never mind that Kensei wanted answers and explanations. That he wanted to shake his lover until he explained what the hell was going on. Shūhei was asleep and Kensei – disinclined to wake the man – could only gnash his teeth and possess himself in patience once more._

Shūhei slept the rest of that night and most of the following day, the deep sleep of the totally exhausted, not even stirring while Kensei moved through the house, cleaning, cooking and preparing for the festivities. And now Shūhei was gone, ostensibly to pick up the last of the shopping and Kensei cursed himself blue for letting the brat out of his sight.

A hiss from the stove reminded him that he had things to do besides worrying and he rescued the Cumberland Sauce before it burned and took comfort in the fact that Shūhei had called. If the younger man planned on bailing, chestnuts – fresh or otherwise – would surely not feature in his thoughts.

The bowl of oranges caught Kensei's eye and his mind turned to the dinner he had planned for the two of them that night: a mix of rich, sophisticated flavours with a sprinkling of decadence. And if he wanted to have everything ready in time, he'd better get started.

For someone who couldn't cook to save his life, Shūhei certainly loved to eat. He wasn't shy about experimenting with food and trying out new flavours, either. And Kensei appreciated that. He reached for the largest of the oranges and started to cut long strips of peel, imagining the heady aromas of baking orange skin suffusing the kitchen. The scent took him right back to his childhood and without realising it, the comforting smells and cherished routine settled his mind.

Kensei spent the next hours baking orange skin and chopping celeriac and fennel for the most colourful of Christmas soups. He pounded bread, garlic, chilli and olive oil into a fiery paste, peeled potatoes for mash, bathed a plucked goose in boiling water before popping it into the oven to roast, and stewed red cabbage in a mix of red wine, sugar, vinegar, cloves and cinnamon. The kitchen smelled like an alchemist's idea of heaven and when Kensei selected the ripest of the six pineapples in his store and decapitated it with a mere flick of his wrist, he had almost convinced himself that his world was still whole.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** And the food extravaganza continues. Forgive me for indulging, but it's Christmas...

**Chapter 2  
**

"I suggest you lend a hand before I drop this lot!"

Kensei hadn't heard the car in the driveway or the key in the lock, but the tsunami of relief that washed through him at seeing Shūhei standing in the kitchen weighed down by shopping almost buckled his knees. He reached for bags and boxes and dumped them on a free corner of the kitchen counter without looking, before he spun back and wrapped the younger man in a hug that threatened to break ribs.

"Kensei?"

"Nothing. Just... missed you," Kensei mumbled, faintly embarrassed. Shūhei had a knack for bringing out all his protective instincts, always had. Only back then, when he'd only been able to guess the extent of Shūhei's courage, he'd been far better able to hide that fact. He turned to the untidy pile of groceries. "Looks like you bought all of the market."

"Felt like it, too. Still, I got everything on your list and even something I didn't expect to find." Shūhei bent and retrieved a tall wooden box from one of the bags littering the floor. "See what you think of that."

The box was heavier than Kensei expected and it clinked softly as Shūhei handed it over. It was the size of a bottle, which – in Kensei's mind at least – gave the game away. But when he pried open the lid and saw the deep blue box with the gold insignia and pale yellow label inside, the breath caught in Kensei's throat.

"That is...," he checked the label again and did the math in his head for good measure, "... thirty years old."

"Yep," Shūhei's grin could have lit the contents of the bottle on fire. "Special Release, 30-year-old Auchroisk for your pleasure."

"I can't drink that!"

The camera on Shūhei's phone went off with a flash. "Just in case you dispute later that you ever said that," he commented smugly. "And since I have no compunction about age, hand that bottle over and I'll do the honours."

Kensei burst out laughing, clutching the box to his chest like a precious infant. "No way, you heathen. A fine malt like this one would be wasted on you."

"And there I was, hoping you'd offer to educate me in the finer points of Scotch appreciation."

"Oh, were you? Well, let me get you started by pointing out that you appreciate fine malt by the mouthful, not by the bottle."

Shūhei's amused chuckle lit a beacon of warmth in Kensei's chest. He hadn't heard that sound in far too long and he mentally bowed his head to Retsu Unohana convinced that, without her advice, his patience would have given out too soon.

Kensei watched, bottle still cradled in his arms, as Shūhei unpacked his haul, displaying each item for approval as if he planned to return it to the shop if it did not meet Kensei's expectations. Soon, nets of chestnuts and sprouts vied for space on the long counter with packs of prosciutto, strings of chipolatas, a large tub of freshly made sausage meat from Kensei's favourite butcher and jars of gherkins pickled in sweet vinegar.

"And why we need four litres of double cream I'll never understand, but here you are," Shūhei emptied the last bag and stacked blue and white plastic tubs on the last bit of available counter space.

"Wait 'til you meet Mashiro," Kensei replied. He moved the box with the precious whisky to a safe place on top of the kitchen units before he started to stow Shūhei's purchases. "The way the stuff disappears around her she's either half cat or she bathes in it." He made space for the tubs in the overfilled fridge. "This way I still have spare cream in the freezer if anyone else wants any."

He checked through the contents of the fridge one last time, wondering if he'd remembered everyone's favourite treats and then shook his head. It was too late to worry now, really.

"Don't... steal the ingredients!" Kensei complained as he straightened from his crouch and found Shūhei with his fingers in the saucepan. "Go make yourself useful."

"Hey!" Shūhei complained, retreating from the stove. "Who volunteered for shopping duty when it's a zoo out there? At the very least you could provide a little treat."

"Who says I haven't?" Kensei reached for a plate and dolloped a spoonful of pomegranate relish on one side, followed by a dollop of his fiery chilli mustard. Then he opened the warming oven and pulled out a pie, all golden and inviting. "You want a Burgundy with that," he suggested as he put the treat on the plate.

"What don't I want a Burgundy with?" Shūhei asked rhetorically, but located the appropriately labelled bottle and poured two glasses when he realised that Kensei was unexpectedly without one, though he'd been cooking for hours.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Shūhei asked, and then forgot all about his query as he bit into the warm pie. His eyes widened dramatically and he didn't even notice the gravy trickling down his chin as he tried to taste, chew and swallow all at once.

"Oh but that's gorgeous!" he moaned obscenely around a second bite. "What _is_ that?"

"Venison pie." Kensei loved cooking for an appreciative audience, and few people were as appreciative of good food as Shūhei.

"No way." The brunet put the pie down, picked up a fork and started to dissect the filling. "It's got cherries in it!"

"Morello cherries, yes," Kensei confirmed, giving the orange-coloured and scented soup on the stove a gentle stir. "And bacon, onions and spices. They keep the pie moist and make the gravy." He waved a hand to the larger version on the sideboard. "Most people like to eat it cold, with pickles, but I think it makes a damn good hot pie, too."

"Definitely."

Shūhei had gone back to devouring the pie and his words were a little hard to make out. Kensei didn't mind. He sipped his wine, content now that Shūhei was home, and watched his lover inhale pie and relish with barely a moment to draw breath.

"Boy, I needed that!" he sighed when the plate was bare. "For food this wonderful, I even brave the zoo. Now," Shūhei stood up and stretched, grin reaching almost from ear to ear. "Is there anything I can do without ruining it?"

"Sure," Kensei grinned back, just as widely. Provided he was kept away from fire, Shūhei was proving surprisingly handy in the kitchen and Kensei was planning on taking full advantage. "You can prep chestnuts, peel sprouts, wrap chipolatas in prosciutto and make stuffing."

"Wish I hadn't asked."

It was some time later, when, wrapped in soothing aromas and comforting actions, Kensei looked up from his work. "We can call it off, if it bothers you so much," he offered softly.

Shūhei laid the knife down and came around the centre island to stand behind Kensei and wrap his arms around Kensei's waist.

"No," he said, resting his cheek on Kensei's shoulder, right over the scar. "I'm not that much of a coward. And if you're right about endings being new beginnings, then I need to lay a few ghosts before I miss out on another one. Besides," he swiped his fingers through the pot in front of Kensei and took a step back to taste, "it would be a crime to let all that glorious food go to waste."

"That's your dinner, brat. I can't see that going to waste."

xxXX *~*~* XXxx

Kensei was right, at least with regards to the food. By the time the soup was a promise of velvety orange-and-fennel scented richness that made his mouth water and the goose was cooked to perfection, Shūhei was starving and starting to regard cooking with Kensei as a new form of torture.

He had prepared a veritable mountain of sprouts, peeled blanched chestnuts until his fingertips were sore and been smacked over the head more than once with a wooden spoon for sneaking strips of the rather tasty prosciutto he was supposed to wrap the chipolatas in.

"I bought extra so I could eat some," he'd complained eventually, only to hear Kensei laugh.

"I doubt you bought that much extra. And anyway, dinner is ready when you are."

"Music to my ears, believe me. Want me to light the fire?"

"Sounds good."

Shūhei left Kensei to the contemplation of the contents of the wine rack, while he found the matches and lit the fire he'd set earlier in the day. A small flame sprang up from the thin shavings of kindling and the fresh pine Shūhei had added to the stack of wood hissed and caught fire, releasing scents of peace and woodland to mingle with the enticing aromas of roast goose and baked orange. The drapes were closed against the dark and damp of an English winter evening and the room started to glow golden as the fire caught and grew. Lighting the tall tapers on the dinner table, and watching the tiny flames reflect on porcelain and crystal only added to Shūhei's feeling of comfort and safety, and he wondered why he never felt like this in his own home, however many candles he lit.

The pop of a cork from the direction of the kitchen held the answer. And it was obvious. Kensei made the difference. He was a tower of strength and solidity that Shūhei could lean on without being thought weak, someone who watched his back without having to be asked, who stood guard when Shūhei needed a break and who provided reason when Shūhei was too tired to think straight. Kensei was someone Shūhei didn't want to be without – and for whom he was even prepared to brave ghosts.

"What's so amusing?" Kensei crossed to the dining table, carrying a tray that held a tureen of soup and a bottle of wine in a chiller.

Shūhei hadn't realised he was smiling, but he didn't feel like explaining his epiphany just yet. It seemed silly that he'd been too busy settling into a new job and helping with the investigation to notice what was right in front of his face. He waved his hand, encompassing the candle-lit tree, the fire, the table dressed in gleaming white linen, fine porcelain, crystal and sparkling silverware. And more intangible things like warmth, the sense of being wanted, and the inviting aromas of Kensei's cooking. "This," he said after a moment. "You. Christmas."

He stepped around the table and wound his arms around Kensei's neck, pressing close. "I don't _do_ Christmas," he said softly, brushing his lips over Kensei's in a barely there caress. "I always used to work. And nobody's ever..."

Kensei dotted a quick kiss on Shūhei's forehead. "Which is exactly why I do it, of course," he quipped. "Workaholics like you need a civilising influence. And you like my cooking." He removed Shūhei's arms from his neck and turned him around. "Now sit down before the soup's cold and the fizz goes flat!"

Shūhei complied without a word, in happy anticipation of a spectacular dinner. He didn't bother to wipe the smile off his face.

xxXX *~*~* XXxx

"Time to open your present?" Shūhei queried once they'd cleared the table and were ready to settle in front of the fire. Contentment didn't even begin to describe how he felt. Exceptionally well fed, certainly. But also at ease, comfortable... happy? ... and definitely curious. He hadn't minded paying the high price one of the rare bottles commanded, but he wanted to find out what a 30-year-old malt tasted like when his usual fare was less than half that age and cost only a fraction of the Auchroisk.

But Kensei wasn't carrying the distinctive blue box when he came back into the lounge. Instead, the tray in his hands held shot glasses, matches, something that looked like a miniature copper paddle and an unfamiliar white glass bottle.

"You said something earlier about laying ghosts," he said as he sat the tray down on the low table before the fire. "So I thought I help with that." And under Shūhei's bemused gaze he filled the shot glasses with a clear liquid, lit a match and set it alight.

The spirit burned with an eerie blue flame that wavered and danced though there was no breeze in the room.

"Moor spirits, masquerading as guiding lights, lead travellers astray on their journey," Kensei's voice spoke softly from the semi-darkness. "Like many ghosts, they illuminate only a single path of their choosing and hide other and maybe safer routes. To lay those ghosts, you need to find the courage to extinguish the flame and see your way by the light of your soul."

He picked up the copper paddle and placed it over one of the shot glasses. When he removed it, the blue flame was gone.

A shiver washed down Shūhei's spine as he watched the lonely blue flame dance enticingly. He thought about the home and family he had lost the night before Christmas when he was just eleven years old. He thought of another Christmas, of an outcrop of rock in a barren landscape, his hands slippery with blood as he gripped his rifle, determined to save one man. And he thought of the loneliest, scariest day in his life... when he walked away from everything he'd ever wanted.

"Lay your ghosts," Kensei said softly, holding the paddle out by the handle.

Shūhei's breath wasn't entirely steady and neither was his hand, but he took the small paddle without hesitation, placed it over the glass the way Kensei had done and extinguished the flame.

"And here's to new beginnings." Kensei lifted his glass in a toast and waited for Shūhei to join him.

"To new beginnings," Shūhei replied.

And when he finally lifted the shot glass to his lips, the fiery spirit was surprisingly soft, sweet with the scent of wild herbs and a long slow burn that settled in his stomach and chased the cold away.


	3. Chapter 3

**And finally... Christmas Day.**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Leaving his lover frustrated on Christmas morning had not been Kensei's intention. In fact, he'd planned on a little relaxation before the house filled with guests and he'd risen early to get the turkey started and treat Shūhei to breakfast in bed.

And Shūhei hadn't complained. Not at the early start to their day – though he had wrapped himself around Kensei's pillow, burrowed back under the quilt and muttered something about turkeys and the outer circle of hell when Kensei got out of bed – and certainly not at the large mug of coffee and warm cherry pies Kensei had brought up a while later.

The _come hither_ smile Kensei so adored found its way onto Shūhei's face while the coffee did its work and then Shūhei leaned to set his empty plate down – on _Kensei's_ bedside table – the quilt sliding to expose the small of Shūhei's back and that perfect ass. Kensei resisted the urge to drag his teeth down that elegant spine, to tease the sensitive spot just above the swell of a cheek and hear the deep, husky groan spilling from Shūhei's throat.

Instead, he slid one hand into mussed, inky spikes while the other gripped a shoulder, and pulled the younger man's face up. "You've had your taste of coffee," he declared firmly. "Now I want mine."

It so wasn't Kensei's fault that his phone rang just as things got interesting. Or that he was too kind or conscientious to ignore it. "That was Rose. They've just finished debriefing. Desperate for a decent breakfast, too, so they'll be over in a few," he said moments later, draping his weight over his lover's warm back.

He was grateful that he didn't need to explain how one felt at the end of a long night debriefing a mission: short on sleep, awash with caffeine and desperate for food. Shūhei knew and he didn't complain about Kensei's offer, but the tension in the slim frame spoke volumes. "I'll make it up to you later tonight...," Kensei whispered the promise, blunt nails gently scraping over Shūhei's scalp, "and tomorrow... and the day after." Every word was a soft brush of lips against the nape of Shūhei's neck until Kensei could feel the shivers running down Shūhei's spine.

"Not helping, Kensei," Shūhei grumbled. "Go take a shower. I need a minute."

The rough tone went straight to Kensei's groin. He buried his face in the soft spikes and took a few deep breaths before rolling out of bed and vanishing into the bathroom. Shūhei was still motionless on the bed, face buried in a pillow when he returned, dressed and headed downstairs. He had a large pan of scrambled eggs on the go when Shūhei finally made it into the kitchen, hair still damp.

"Can I do anything to help?" he asked while buttoning his jeans and pulling a woollen jumper over his head to cover the ratty t-shirt he wore underneath. "Preferably something that doesn't involve sprouts. Or chestnuts."

"Tune that guitar of yours," Kensei suggested, smiling gratefully. "Oh, and lay the table."

In the end, Shūhei did more than lay the table. He sliced ham and smoked salmon, pulled mustard, relish and dill sauce from Kensei's store, toasted bread and brewed another large jug of coffee. And when Rose and five of his men invaded the kitchen, and he came face to face with Hanatarō, who hugged him like a long lost brother, Shūhei's grin lit the room.

"Like keeping secrets, do you?" Shūhei queried as he passed behind Kensei to reach for bread basket and coffee pot and follow the men into the dining room.

Kensei hid his face in the steam coming off the frying pan and smiled. _You have no idea, brat._

**oooOooo**_  
_

Shūhei's eyes almost bugged out of their sockets when the last of the guests arrived. So far, the day had been much more fun than he'd anticipated. A cold shower had taken care of the most pressing problem of the morning and the constant snarking and 'do you remember' all through breakfast had done much to unravel the coil of tension in his neck and settle the butterflies in his stomach.

He'd helped Kensei clear up after breakfast amused by the many little touches that were clearly meant as an apology, when he really wasn't mad. Yes, it would have been nicer had their morning not been interrupted, but in the grand scheme of things, that interruption meant little. And trying to stop Kensei in Christmas mode was as futile as trying to stop the tide... so Shūhei wasn't even making an attempt.

Seeing that he knew most of the arriving guests helped to relax him further. Isane Kotetsu, from the child protection squad, was a long-term acquaintance, and her sister, Kiyone, turned out to work at the same hospital as Kensei's sister Mashiro. Kira arrived shortly after, trailing a bemused Lisa, and both had promptly cornered Kensei and Shūhei to talk shop for a time.

Now Rose and Don Frazer, who had volunteered to man the security desk at Kuchiki Industries over the holidays, were playing guitar, watched and occasionally accompanied by Isane, Kiyone and Hanatarō. And Shūhei hadn't seen Kensei that relaxed and cheerful since... well, ever.

They'd only been waiting for Kensei's family to arrive and now that they had, Shūhei couldn't believe what he was seeing. Between Kensei's mother and a young woman who could only be Kensei's sister Mashiro stood... Daniel and Dominic, the boys Kensei had rescued from the club the night Rikichi had died.

"I told you my mother was fostering again," Kensei whispered into his ear as he passed Shūhei and crossed the room to greet his latest guests.

Eyes round as saucers the two boys took in the gathering crowd in Kensei's home. Shūhei saw that they still held on to each other, but not with the desperation they'd shown in the club or in the weeks since their escape, and the fact cheered him.

And when Dominic and Daniel jumped Kensei as soon as he was close enough, Shūhei couldn't hold back a broad grin. Isane and Lisa had both assured him that the boys were doing well, but for Shūhei, who had turned hiding in plain sight into an art form, seeing was believing.

"Believe me now?" Lisa's voice, eerily echoing his thoughts, sparked a shiver down his spine. Weird. This whole Christmas business was... weird. Or maybe he was becoming far too easy to read. For far too many people. Shūhei huffed, blithely blamed the shiver on Lisa's warm breath blowing across his ear as she leaned her chin on his shoulder and watched with him.

"How did you swing that one?" he asked instead, nodding his head at the family reunion across the room.

"Are you ill or something?" Lisa demanded. "The whole chain of evidence is right in front of you and you can't see the pattern?" She reached for Shūhei's hand and bent fingers inwards one by one as she enumerated: "Isane, Kiyone, Mashiro, and Mrs Muguruma." She straightened his fingers and started again. "Kira, myself, you, Kensei. Mrs. Muguruma was already a registered foster parent and the boys trust both of you. Best case scenario, really."

Hands suddenly gripped Shūhei's shoulders and spun him around. A teal glare bored into him, fierce as a laser beam. "Misgivings?"

"None," Shūhei answered promptly. It wasn't a lie. Kensei's mother was just what the two teenagers needed. She was compassionate, but not given to drama, down to earth and more even tempered than Kensei or, from what he'd heard, Mashiro. She would not try to replace what had clearly never existed in the first place, but she would provide the stability and feeling of safety Daniel and Dominic needed more than anything else. And what Shūhei thought of the matter... well.

"You are annoying," Lisa snorted, running out of patience. "There are plenty of people here who are perfectly happy to listen to you, regardless of whether you need to talk or just want to bitch. One day, you'll realise that."

Shūhei nodded. One day, he might. For now, he was happy to watch from a distance as two teenagers mobbed his lover, pelting him with questions they didn't give him a chance to answer, while Kensei greeted his mother and teased Mashiro until she stormed off in a huff to talk to Kiyone.

Life was... becoming interesting.

**oooOooo**

"Why are you wearing matching keys?"

Shūhei settled into steaming, foaming water and watched the two teenagers climb into the hot tub as if it might bite. At first, the two had been incredulous when Shūhei proposed a hot bath in the garden, then suspicious that Shūhei was playing tricks. Now, though, both beamed widely enough to brighten the lunchtime gloom.

"This is cool!"

"Is it always hot?"

Shūhei's lips quirked. "It can't be always hot if it's cool, can it?" he teased and slid under the water with a sigh, letting the dull roar of the jets override the buzzing between his ears and soothe the headache that was just threatening to start behind his eyes. He really had to stop fussing, or Kensei would do more than bop him on the head and tease him over being a mother hen.

"So, what's with the keys?" he asked when he resurfaced, brushing hair from his face.

A half giggle, a few glances and then Dominic decided to answer. "Mrs. Muguruma... she said that when you're making a new start, you need a safe place to dump all the bad stuff from before, so you don't drag it around with you. She gave each of us a box and a diary. And they're ours to keep and lock away. Nobody will see what's in it, unless we let them."

Kensei clearly wasn't the only one to hold strong beliefs in new beginnings. But maybe that wasn't surprising.

The faith in Dominic's voice staggered Shūhei. After being part of the investigation, he had a much better idea of what the boys had been through. And their resilience astonished him. There _he_ was, with enough baggage of his own to challenge Samsonite, tiptoeing round two teenagers who took a foster home, court appearances and a giant Christmas party filled with strangers in their stride... though they had fought tooth and nail when Kensei's mother wanted to give each boy a room of his own.

"Dinner is waiting, and the skinniest three guys here waste time in the tub," Kensei's voice suddenly growled from behind Daniel and Dominic, interrupting Shūhei's reverie and startling both boys into yelps of panic.

"If you don't want to be surprised, always position yourself so you can see anyone who approaches." Shūhei's instructions were soft, his voice careful. Daniel caught on first. His eyes flew from Shūhei, sitting on the side of the tub that backed the shrubbery, to the house and across the garden.

"You do that!"

"All the time," Shūhei nodded. "Kensei does, too. You'll never catch him sitting with his back to a door."

"Or a window." Kensei held two brand-new, hooded bathrobes over his arm, one dark blue, the other dark brown with Daniel and Dominic's names embroidered in gold thread across the back. "Now get out of the tub or dinner's going to be cold."

Dominic jumped out first and gleefully huddled into his robe. "I look like a boxer!" he crowed, tying the sash and waving his arms over his head in a champion's salute.

"But do you have the moves?" Kensei challenged, raising loosely curled fists to cover his face, while dancing on the balls of his feet.

An impromptu sparring match ensued, while Shūhei and Daniel climbed out of the tub. "I don't like boxing," the blond confided as he slipped into the sleeves of the dark blue robe that Shūhei held out for him. "I would like to learn Karate. Or that thing where you dress up like a samurai and carry a sword."

"Kendo," Shūhei supplied and pulled Daniel's hood up when the boy shivered. "I don't know if there is a beginner's class at my dojo, but I can ask if you want."

Daniel bowed a bit awkwardly, the wide hood obscuring most of his face. "If there isn't, will you teach me, Shūhei-sensei?"

"Don't call me that," Shūhei grumbled as he led Daniel across the lawn towards the back door, towels and warmth. "You're making me feel old."

"Wait for me!"

Shūhei flattened himself against the wall as Dominic came charging up the stairs, chased by a grinning Kensei. His lover tapped his watch in a meaningful way and Shūhei nodded. He herded the boys into Kensei's bedroom, where towels, clothes and a hairdryer waited for them, only to stop dead in the doorway.

There, on Shūhei's pillow sat a metal box of deep green enamel, brightened by amber-coloured studs in each corner. On top of the box lay a key on a chain, next to a diary bound in deep green leather.

"After what you said in Dr. Lisa's office, we thought you needed a safe place for old stuff, too," Daniel said, watching him carefully from beside the bed.

Small kindnesses had a way of catching up with him and biting him on the ass, Shūhei thought, resigned. He'd shared some of his past to help Daniel and Dominic through their fears without first considering the consequences, even though he knew that there was merit in letting sleeping dogs lie. Now that he'd woken them, he had to deal with the mess.

Shūhei stepped between the two boys and looked down at his gift. The enamel gleamed, its colour soothing and peaceful, while the amber studs reminded him of Kensei's eyes.

"I think you're right," he said, as the lengthy bout of insomnia suddenly made perfect sense. "A place to dump old trash will come in very handy."

And then he reached for the key and fastened the thin chain around his neck.

**oooOooo**

Christmas dinner was a rowdy, cheerful affair, full of laughter and good-natured ribbing. Everyone teased the boys and Shūhei about the unbelievable amounts of food they could put back... all three were still blissfully feasting on turkey, stuffing and the chipolatas Shūhei had slaved over the previous day, when everyone else had long since conceded defeat.

"We'll miss the Queen if you three don't get a move on," Mashiro yelled down the table. "I want my Christmas pudding now!"

"Feed her face, Kensei," Shūhei suggested, when he saw Daniel and Dominic immediately put down their forks. "We're still eating turkey." He smiled at the two teens. "Fancy a picnic while watching the Queen?"

"Picnic?"

Shūhei put on his best conspirator's smile. "Come with me and I'll show you."

Eyes bright, the two boys grabbed their plates and followed Shūhei to the kitchen.

"This is where we get to raid Kensei's pantry," he stage-whispered and opened the wooden door next to the fridge.

"Do you think he'll mind?" Dominic whispered back.

"'course I don't mind! Who do you think I cooked all this food for?"

As before, Kensei's voice took the boys unawares and they immediately reached for each other. This time, though, Daniel looked at Shūhei, who stood with his back to the wall next the open pantry door, and then around the room.

"You're doing it again," he said with a grin so wide it must have hurt. "You can see everything."

"Told you," Shūhei smiled. "Now you guard the door, while I find us more food. Have you ever tried goose before?"

When they returned, Kensei had lit and served the Christmas pudding and most of the party were assembled around the TV in the sitting room. He patted the floor by his side, where several large cushions waited along with a packet of napkins and a box of tissues. Shūhei's wineglass had migrated to a low table beside Kensei, too, as had the large bottle of Sprite Daniel and Dominic had chosen.

"Picnic time," Shūhei declared as he made himself comfortable and settled the plate in his lap. It was heaped with slices of turkey, cold roast goose and slivers of Kensei's ham, the rim dotted with mustards and relish and decorated with pickled gherkins. "You didn't have plans for that goose, did you?"

"I had plenty of plans," Kensei grinned, "but I know you for the glutton you are and bought two."

Shūhei watched, unexpectedly happy, as Daniel and Dominic settled between him and Kensei with their plates, making sure their backs were to the wall and they could see everyone in the room.

Life was... good.

**oooOooo**

It was close to Midnight when Kensei's home was finally empty. Shūhei swayed on his feet, but he felt oddly lighter, as if laying his ghosts had granted his soul the space to stretch.

"Hot tub?" Kensei suggested, holding up a bottle of champagne and two cut crystal flutes. "Toast Christmas while it still is?"

Shūhei had planned on going to bed, but the hot tub sounded inviting, especially when going to bed would mean explaining the green enamel box. He didn't feel quite ready for that, even though the key was comforting weight at his throat. So he nodded, shucked his jumper over the back of the sofa and followed Kensei out into the garden.

Crisp, cold air complemented steaming hot water and the deep notes of the church clock striking midnight drifted over the otherwise silent neighbourhood as they settled in.

"December 26th," Kensei said as he popped the cork and handed Shūhei a flute of softly bubbling pale gold liquid. "The morning I woke in hospital with you standing guard like an avenging angel."

Shūhei snorted. "Not the way I remember it. I distinctly recall sprawling over the foot of your bed and drooling on the hospital quilt."

"And I still wonder what you did to make them let you stay."

"Charm offensive," Shūhei husked, grateful when Kensei let it go. It was telling that Shūhei considered these three days some of the worst of his life. Consumed by guilt, he'd been prepared to do damage had anyone tried to order him from Kensei's side. Nobody had – and he found out only much, much later that he had to thank Hanatarō for that indulgence. Hanatarō, who continued to serve as a field medic once his wounds had healed, and who had told him – during a quiet moment just after the Queen's speech – that he was glad Shūhei had found his way back home.

"Ever since that morning I've thought of Boxing Day as an opportunity," Kensei said, swirling the wine in his glass. "A chance to try something new, or wipe the slate clean and start over."

"Not always that easy to do."

"No. But we both know that anything worth doing takes courage."

Shūhei leaned his head against the rim of the tub and let his body float in the hot water. It was peaceful out here in the dark, with only twinkle lights in the bushes behind the tub and stars above. He let Kensei's presence wash over his senses, basking in his strength and loyalty and affection. Understanding that some things needed to be said, but that no answer was required. That answers would come in their own time.

When he felt fingertips tracing the line of his collarbones he opened his eyes and found Kensei's eyes on him, liquid gold like the cornerstuds of the enamel box on his pillow.

"So Dominic wants to learn boxing?"

"So he says. What about Daniel?"

"Karate or Kendo."

"Funny how that works out. Will you teach him?"

Shūhei pictured the blonde wielding a bamboo sword and smiled. "Of course. Will you?"

"You didn't even have to ask."

Kensei's voice was firm, his smile calm, and their lips met in a promise, soft and serious.

"What's on the menu for today?" Shūhei queried a long while later, when they'd done little more than soak in the warmth of the water and admire the cold glitter of the stars.

"Sleep. Go for a run. And I have definite plans for later."

"Plans?"

"Hm. I owe you, remember?" There was the faintest hesitation in Kensei's voice, but then he ploughed on. "My plans are...more like fantasies, I suppose. Imagining you tied to the bed... stuff like that."

Now Shūhei _was_ intrigued. So far in their relationship, he'd been the one holding the rope if they felt like playing. He understood why Kensei hadn't suggested it before, but suddenly the idea of being helpless and bound didn't raise ghosts or trigger painful memories. Right now, it turned him on. More than just a little.

This, after all, was Kensei. Shūhei was safe here. And wanted. Shūhei relished the heat that started to pool in his gut and matched the heat in the amber eyes that watched him so carefully. He had no misgivings as he raised his champagne flute in a toast. "Why wait until later?"


End file.
